


Monster

by alittlebitaces (acesmcgee)



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Angst, Bering and Wells, F/F, Missing Scene, Season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-26
Updated: 2012-08-26
Packaged: 2017-11-12 23:11:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/496708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acesmcgee/pseuds/alittlebitaces
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a  missing scene from the season 2 finale in which Myka is the one in charge of getting Helena back to the Warehouse from Yellowstone. another old one, was a comment!fic on tumblr....on some gif somewhere, submitting it here for archival purposes. the theme/some dialogue is pulled from Dexter, specifically a scene Lila and Dex have, but I felt like it could happen here as well et voila.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monster

Silence weighed heavily in the car on the way from the Caldera to the Warehouse, so stifling and oppressive that it threatened to choke the both of them.

Artie had been taken to the nearest hospital to treat his gun wound, which left Myka the task of taking H.G. Wells back to the Warehouse and into the waiting custody of the Regents. Although the thought of being alone with that woman for several hours made her stomach churn and her palms sweat, there was little she could do about it. If there was anything to be thankful for, however, it was that the events of the past couple hours had sapped even Helena of her customary bravado and she sat silently in the passenger seat, handcuffed, her head hung and face obscured by a curtain of black hair.

Within thirty-six hours, everything had changed completely. 

Everything they had built together, everything she had done for Helena, every string pulled and promise made, was nothing. Memories of the past few months crowded in her head, loud and insistent, but one thought loomed above it all, casting a shadow that Myka could not escape from: had any of it been real? Or was it all just part of the careful plan the Victorian had spent a hundred years in bronze perfecting?

An unforgiving wave of nausea crested and broke within her, and she felt her foot slam on the brake before her mind had even caught up. The car barely ground to a halt in the shoulder of the two-lane highway before the agent was out of it and staggering toward the roadside greenery. 

She didn't make it.

The contents of her stomach emptied on the gravel, and for a long time she hunched over it, breathing laboured, her hands braced against her knees. 

Everything they had was now worse than nothing; it was a lie.

Another surge tore through her and joined the existing puddle. It left every muscle in her body trembling, and for several precarious moments, Myka thought her legs might give way. When they didn't, she stood carefully and wiped a hand over the back of her mouth, grimacing at the residual taste of bile in her mouth, and made for the car again. Helena had lifted her head at last and was now, she saw, watching her with a look of concern captured on her features. 

Myka balked inwardly at the thought, almost laughed, almost threw up again.

"Myka, are you--?"

" **Don't**." She cut Helena off sharply, and even she was surprised at the anger in her voice. 

Her passenger's brows furrowed and she echoed, "Don't?"

"Don't," Myka repeated firmly. "You don't get to--to almost pull a trigger on a gun to my head, to nearly cause a second ice age and kill millions of innocent people, and then sit there and pretend like you care about me." Her voice was still hoarse from vomiting, and it nearly broke more than once, but she hardly noticed.

The tension between them was palpable, and thick, and the agent suddenly found she had difficulty breathing.

The reply came soft and small. "You hate me."

"No," Myka returned reflexively, and she knew she meant it. She hated that she meant it. 

Helena pressed, "You think I'm a monster for what I've done. For what I nearly did." 

Now the agent snapped her head to the side, green eyes searching black. She felt fresh anger well up within her at the look of sorrow on that pale face. No. She didn't get to be sad, or sorry, not here, not now, not so soon. 

Features hardening bitterly, Helena added in a low voice, "I am a monster. How else could I have gone through with this?"

Everything had been going so well, Myka thought distantly. She had believed the time traveler had finally begun to heal from her tragedy, her loss. And then this happened. Everything she had worked for, everything _they_ had worked for was thrown away in the split second it took for Helena to turn around, level the Tesla at her and Pete, and fire. She had fooled them all. She had fooled Myka.

How had it come to this?

And something within Myka fractured irrevocably.

"Whatever you think you are--you didn't have to be that. Stop, stop judging yourself. Jesus, Helena--" she broke off, at once incredulous and exasperated, fumbling for words. "What were you so fucking scared of?"

As soon as the words left her lips, all of the fight and fire fled Myka. Shaking her head, she averted her eyes and stared listlessly out over the steering wheel. 

"You call yourself a monster so you don't have to bear the responsibility for what you did. You threw it all away. You _chose_ that. 'I'm a monster.' 'How else could I have gone through with this--I'm a monster.' It's sad. And it's pathetic."

Even in spite of circumstance, she felt the hot sting of tears in her eyes, threatening to fall free. Several moments dragged by before she could manage some semblance of speech, though it was little more than a hushed, strangled whisper.

"And it breaks my heart."

Silence reigned again. She wouldn't, couldn't look at her. So she put the car in drive and steered it back onto the highway. 

Myka didn't expect an answer, and she wasn't so sure she particularly wanted one, either. Watching Helena be loaded into the back of another car, to be carted off to God-knows-where, was the second most difficult moment in her life. 

The first was gripped in her hand as she went to go find Pete in the Warehouse, hastily written and sealed tight, and addressed to Mrs. Frederic.


End file.
